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Our Youth all livery'd o'er with foreign gold,
Before her dance : behind her crawl the Old !
See thronging Millions to the Pagod run,
And offer Country, Parent, Wife, or Son ! 160
Hear her black Trumpet thro' the land proclaim,
That “Not to be corrupted is the Shame."
In Soldier, Churchman, Patriot, Man in Pow'r,
'Tis Av'rice all, Ambition is no more.
See, all our Nobles begging to be Slaves !

165
See, all our Fools aspiring to be Knaves !
The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,
Are what ten thousand envy and adore.
All, all look up, with reverential Awe,
At Crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the Law: 170
While Truth, Worth, Wisdom, daily they decry -
“Nothing is Sacred now but Villany."

Yet may thịs Verse (if such a Verse remain). Show, there was one who held it in disdain.

ONE

ONE THOUSAND

SEVEN HUNDRED

AND

THIRTY EIGHT.

DIALOGUE II.

Fr.'

*.'T'S. Not yetmy Friend I to morrow

S

IS all a Libel-Paxton (Sir) will fay.
P. Not yet, my

Friend ! to morrow
'faith it

may ;
And for that very cause I print to day.
How should I fret, to mangle ev'ry line,
In rev'rence to the Sins of Thirty nine !.
Vice with such Giant strides comes on amain,
Invention strives to be before in vain ;
Feign what I will, and paint it e'er so strong,
Some rising Genius fins up to my Song.

F. Yet none but you by Name the guilty lash;
Ev'n * Guthry faves half Newgate by a Dash.

S

10

* The Ordinary of Newgate, who publishes the Memoirs of the Malefactors.

Spare

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20

Spare then the Person, and expose the Vice.

P. How Sir! not damn the Sharper, but the Dice? Come on then Satire ! gen'ral, unconfind, Spread thy broad wing, and sowze on all the kind. 15 Ye Statesmen, Priests, of one Religion all ! Ye Tradesmen vile, in Army, Court, or Hall ! Ye Rev'rend Atheists ! F. Scandal ! name them, Who?

P. Why that's the thing you bid me not to do. Who starv'd a Sister, who forswore a Debt, I never nam'd; the Town's enquiring yet. The pois’ning Dame-F.You mcan- P.I don't. F. You do.

P. See, now I keep the Secret, and not you. The bribing Statesman-F. Hold! too high you go.

P. The brib'd Elector. There you stoop too low.

P. I fain wou'd please you, if I knew with what; Teli

me, which Knave is lawful Game, which not? Must

great Offenders, once escap'd the Crown, Like Royal Harts, be never more run down? Admit your Law to spare the Knight requires ; 30 As Beasts of Nature may we hunt the Squires ? Sụppose I censure -you know what I To save a Bishop, may I name a Dean?

F. A Dean, Sir ? no : his Fortune is not made, You hurt a man that's rising in the Trade.

35 P. If not the Tradesman who set up to day, Much less the 'Prentice who to morrow may. Down, down, proud Satire! tho'a Land be spoild, Arraign no mightier Thief than wretched * Wild,

mean

* Jonathan Wild

Or

40

Or if a Court or Country's made a job,
Go drench a Pick-pocket, and join the Mob.

But, Sir, I beg you, for the Love of Vice !
The matter's weighty, pray consider twice ;
Have you less pity for the needy Cheat,
The

poor and friendless Villain, than the Great ? 45
Alas! the small discredit of a Bribe
Scarce hurts the Lawyer, but undoes the Scribe.
Then better sure it Charity becomes,
To tax Directors, who (ihank God) have Plums;
Still better, Miniflers ; or if the thing

50 May pinch ev’n there — why lay it on a King.

F. Stop ! stop! · P. Must Satire, then, nor rise nor fall ? Speak out, and bid-me blame no Rogues at all.

F. Yes, strike that Wild, I'll justify the blow.

P. Strike? why the man was hang'd ten years ago:
Who now that obsolete Example fears ?
Ev'n Peter trembles only for his Ears.

F. What always Peter ? Peter thinks
You make men desp’rate if they once are bad:
Else might he take to Virtue some

years

hence - 6 P. As S-k, if he lives, will love the PRINCE. F. Strange spleen to S-k!

P. Do I wrong the Man? God knows, I praise à Courtier where I can. When I confess, there is who feels for Fame, And melts to Goodness, need I SCARB'r ow name? 65

you mad,

Plcasid

Pleas’d let me own, in * Ether's peaceful Grove
Where Kent and Nature vye for Pelham's Love,
The Scene, the Master, opening to my view,
I sit and dream I see my Craggs anew !
Ev'n in a Bishop I can spy Desert ;

70
Secker is decent, Rundel has a Heart,
Manners with Candour are to Benson giv'n,
To Berkley, ev'ry Virtue under Heav'n.

But does the Court a worthy Man remove? That instant, I declare, he has my Love: 75 I shún his Zenith, court his mild Decline ; Thus SOMMERs once, and Halifax, were mine : Oft in the clear, ftill Mirrour of Retreat, I study'd SHR EWSBURY, the wise and great : Carleton's calm Sense, and STANHOPE's nobleFlame Compar'd, and knew their gen'rous End the fame: How pleasing ATTERBUR Y's softer hour! How find the Soul, unconquer'd in the Tow's! How can I PULT'NEY, CHESTERFIELD forget ? While Roman spirit charms, and Attic Wit: 85 ARGYLE, the State's whole Thunder born to wield, And shake alike the Senate and the Field : Or WYNDHAM, just to Freedom and the Throne, The Master of our Passions, and his own. Names which I long have lov’d, nor lov'd in vain, go Rank'd with their friends, not number'd with their And if yet higher the proud List should end, [Train ; Still let me say ! No Follow'r, but a Friend.

* The House and Gardens of Elher in Surrey, deligr’d by Mr. Kent.

Xer

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